


The (Impossibly Long and Endlessly Wonderful) Life of Elfo

by PennyYearling



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Creation Myth, Dawn Era, Ehlnofey, Immortal OC, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:01:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26507887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PennyYearling/pseuds/PennyYearling
Summary: Dabbles about Elfo, an Old Wanderer.
Kudos: 3





	The (Impossibly Long and Endlessly Wonderful) Life of Elfo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elfo is born.

This dawn was not the first, but for all intents and purposes, it was. The land that stretched and warmed up to the light was new, or as new as it could be, and quiet. No insects yet crawled on the grass, and the sky was still trying to figure out how birds worked. So far there were oceans, and land, grass and sky, to say nothing of the hole Magnus left behind.

 _He didn’t have to leave in such a hurry,_ the thought moved through the blades of grass, and into the streams of consciousness as they crawled without legs. It branched out into _maybe he’ll return_ and _good riddance_ , _maybe this was a bad idea_ and _he never had the heart anyway,_ and from the few then dozens of thoughts came a tree. It wasn’t the first tree ever to exist, but it _was_ the first on this stretch of land. That was enough, and satisfied with all the work done, it decided to stay put.

In a stroke of inspiration, birds were figured out. Mostly.

The skies finally had company, but something was missing. They couldn’t quite figure out what, and so they threw out ideas. One by one they became rain that fell from clear blue. It didn’t quite look right, though they didn’t know why, and from their concern rain clouds formed. _That’s better,_ was the consensus. _Oh yes, much better. It brings out a certain mood, don’t you think?_

They didn’t know what a mood was, but yes, a rain with clouds had a better one than a rain without. Content with their progress, rain they remained. Either way, the birds didn’t much care for this new invention, and so they hid. Some found outstretched limbs and made small homes there, others went lower and found the roots. But all birds went to ground when the rains came, and some would decide to stay there.

One by one, everything became something, and while Magnus didn’t return to provide direction, they continued with the plan. They were fuzzy on the details, such things were always left to the higher ups, but this was an interesting exercise. One tree became thousands, and not all of them stayed rooted. Rain fell, rose, and fell again, but not all the time. Routines weren’t invented yet, and they would never quite grasp the concept even when it was tossed aside to make way for the schedule. _Maybe it’s a mortal thing,_ the rivers sighed. Mortals had yet to be, but the river knew they would be a nuisance at best. _It’s not for us to know._ The drops of water that grew tired of falling all the time hummed along and rested in the flow. _Not for us to know,_ they agreed. The fact remained that everything, eventually, became _something._

Except for one. Unlike the everything, and definitely unlike the nothing that unexisted outside, this one was, for back of a better word, undecided. It swayed in this uncertainty as trees took root and rivers took paths, but it didn't want to be a tree, for they stayed in place. It knew it wanted to move, but not quite like a drop of water did, for it couldn't control its destination.

It couldn’t decide what to do, whatever _deciding_ was. Slowly it went down to listen, and maybe even ask for advice. It touched down on the cool grass, when before it only ever knew floating, and maybe thinking. It never touched before.

It felt nice.

It never felt before, either.

 _I_ _want to do it again,_ it thought, and wanted, and it reached down to touch the grass once again. It was still cool, and the blades tickled. All blades would tickle after that, even when made of steel. Steel wouldn’t come for a long time, but it never hurt to be prepared. It stood for a long time, not quite sure what to do next. The river continued to gossip, and even then interrupting was rude. _I’ll come back later_ , it was decided, but the grass felt so nice, and the sky had never seemed so pretty when viewed from below. There had been thousands of skies, and there would be thousands more, but none are ever as beautiful than when viewed on the ground.

It stayed there, not becoming a tree or rock, though the thought did occur a few times. There it watched as a few more made their own decisions, and left with Magnus. They weren’t as big, and so their goodbyes were only seen when it was darker. Something like rain but wasn’t swept over. A goodbye wasn’t forever, but it felt that way, and feeling was all anyone had to go on.

Why anyone would leave was beyond concept, and so it decided to never leave. But it would keep moving, and so it took its very first step.

 _Oh. That’s new._ But it was nice. It felt nice. And so it took another, and then another. Before it knew what was truly happening, it walked. For the first time it walked, and soon the walk became a run. It went far too fast for nothing should outpace the wind, and it stumbled like a boulder too close to the cliffs. That was new too, though it didn’t feel quite as good.

It decided to never go back to the sky, and to never stay in one place for long. It was not the wind, for if there were anyone around they would see it, and it wasn’t a tree, for the walking trees hadn’t occurred quite yet.

_What does that make me, then?_

The answer came suddenly, a stroke of inspiration that made the birds, the trees, the rain and wind and all things around it.

“I’m Elfo!”

And he was.


End file.
